


Two Sides of a Dice (Arc 1)

by HappyAppyAliCat, ProwlsGirl



Series: Two Sides of Dice [2]
Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Cards of Life is a thing, Everyone Is Gay, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Issues, Future Parent AU, King Dice can SING, King Dice has a brother, King can be a nice guy when he wants to be, King's such a Heart, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Family, The Devil is a Sneaky Bastard, Well not everyone, jealous devil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-09-30 05:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyAppyAliCat/pseuds/HappyAppyAliCat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlsGirl/pseuds/ProwlsGirl
Summary: The story begins!





	1. How it Began

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning of this lil' passion project, we hope you all enjoy!

Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a rather well known Speakeasy run by a man named Ace Dice. He was a family man, watching over his two young sons, Deuce and King, after the early passing of their mother. Sadly, things didn't end so well, as Ace died of an illness, leaving his sons alone in the world, the only thing left behind was a letter telling the two to head to his Speakeasy after the funeral. 

“Deuce…” a young King started, “What are we going to do?”

“Don’t worry King.” Deuce pronounce with a determined smile, “Everything will be fine as long as we have each other. Just like Dad always said!” 

They headed down the block to their father's Speakeasy, only to see a SOLD sign up front, and their father business being torn to the ground. 

“W-What are ya doing?!” Deuce shouted, as the boys scurried over to a man that stood, watching with mock pride. “Ya have no right to…”

“Oh I have EVERY right to.” The man turned with an ugly sneer, a well known face to all of Inkwell, the Devil himself. “You see boys, your father had a debt to pay and since he already kicked the bucket, I have to collect SOMETHING.”

“Ya can’t do that!” King demanded, Deuce having to hold him back as the tiny boy stepped forward to point at the demon. “That belong to our father, ya' thief!”

The Devil looked at the two boys in mock thought, mostly the one that stood up to him. “How about a deal then?” he said with a toothy smile as he leans over the two.  
Deuce, being the oldest and knowing you shouldn’t try any deal with the Devil himself, looked very unsure. King on the other hand looked the Devil straight in the eye. “What...kind of deal?”

“King-” Deuce started.

The Devil cut him off, smirked. “A trade.” 

Without warning the Devil reached out and grabbed King by the arm, yanking him from the others grasp, much to the two's horror. 

“D-Deuce! Help!” King shouted, trying to wiggle free from the Devil’s hold.

“King! Let him go!” Deuce raced forward trying to free his tiny brother.

"Sorry, only have room for one.” The Devil said, shooting out his other hand to shove the other young child away, his claws carelessly digging into his left eye as Deuce fell backward and fell limp on the floor, passing out from the sudden trauma and flaring pain to the his left side of his face.

 

“Deuce!!” King shouted in panic as the Devil effortlessly dragged him away like he weighed nothing, “Deuce, get up, please!!”  
\- - -

Many years later, an older yellow Die stood in front of the entrance of the infamous Devil's Casino. His one working eye glared at the cartoony Devil grinning down at him. 

"I know it's been a long time...But ya' big brother is comin' to free ya." 

With that, Deuce headed inside.


	2. First Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first sight to the reunion much yearned after, the Yellow Die's search seems to have finally come to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy the story, yes there is Arc's, this passion project is a full year in the making, we think there may be 2 or maybe 3, we're basing them off of the specific events in the story!

Immediately after creaking open the heavy and quite heated door, a wash of tobacco and alcohol scent flew into his face, causing a fit of disgusted coughing. The wreak of alcohol was one he was used to in his bar, but the stench of cigars and smoke made his stomach turn. After many years with his only employee, he thought he’d be used to it by now, but apparently not. The casino was bustling, the crowd moving like a busy river to the tables of possible winners.

Deuce looked around, hoping to get a glance at the location of his brother. He rifled through the dingy pocket of his dress pants, pulling out a slice of paper from a poster he’d gotten from a lamppost outside his bar. With a twinge, he looked over the torn page, a yellow and black image of a face he knew well, from the dimpled cheeks to the deliciously styled outfit. Pride rushed into his chest, and with a tip of his hat over his eyes he rushed into the crowd without hesitation. Distate for people or not, this was important. His little brother was in this building SOMEWHERE.

He walked from poker table to roulette table, looking for any signs of his brother at any of them. He imagined that damned monster would have set him to some demeaning work, yet the only Die he saw stood small and on the tables, usually beside a bland drink. Deuce inwardly scoffed, this may be a Casino, but they had no art in their drinks. If it wasn’t for who ran this place he would show them all the proper way to mix a stiff one. He shuddered gently as a whiff of smoke crept into his nose, this time accompanied by a bit of ash, making his eye burn. A sudden flash of anxiety peaked, this situation reminding him of the day everything changed with a puff of smoke and ash. He was sure he saw someone similar that could he could pick out from his own employer, and in fact with a bit of focus, it was this person who was flying ash all over the casino while he walked.

Deuce pursed his lips gently, noting a slight trail on the floor by the large man. The thought of following a Casino worker not stuck to those damned table became a good idea in his mind, making his feet shuffle after this fast working man, though the crowd did not part for the bustling die like it did for this ash flinging man, only adding a tinge of annoyance to join his frustration. Any more of this and he may need to calm his nerves his flask. He hopes this would lead him to his brother’s location like he'd hoped, yet it seemed to be dropped for a moment when he caught a clear view of this man, a rather bulky, intimidating behemoth, eyes yellowed and narrowed, teeth having a gap in the front, almost adding an air of, well, lack of culture to the man.

Deuce felt his eye twitch gently, imagining the small, meek little man waiting for him to come back, his doofy face, and wiggly mouth always ready to laugh. Inwardly he prayed that his, well, adorable roommate would not turn into this when he grew older, Deuce prefer cute to dirty any day. Though as this thought left, so did the ashy man, behind a large curtain of all things. Deuce looked around and saw he had stupidly walked up to the side of a giant stage, where no one was standing, and he stood out like a sore thumb, bad idea if he wished to get out without being torn apart.

 

He was about to turn back into the crowd when he saw that all the drunks had stood up, all seemingly shuffling toward the middle. Deuce hid his confusion until the room began to dim, almost ominously, causing the Die to slink into the shadows toward the back. With the quietest footsteps he could, he hid by the back of the crowd, when a sharp snap of machinery caused him to turn around, his eye blinded by the unexpected bright light. He used a hand to save his only working eye from the it until he could sigh with relief as his vision lost the black dots enough for him to slowly see the outline of a craps table to his side, the unfortunate soul who was stationed there having left when his customers vacated the area for the growing crowd. The yellow die took no hesitation in taking refuge behind it, thankful for the dark shadow that covered him, and his poor eye, which had begun to water. He furiously began to wipe it, not even noticing the low drum of strings flowing from a lazy sounding bass instrument. The music began to build slowly, catching Deuce's attention just from how slow it was. It seemed to creep up, what his mother would call “The stalker cord”, which she often used to teach him and his brother how to use their voices. Little King had slid into the rhythm like only their mother could, which slowly took his interest, and hope.

Deuce slowly peeked behind the table he had taken shelter from, just as the light lowered it's harsh beams to settle onto the stage, where the common thick red curtains were pulled to show quite a, well, morbid display to those who didn’t frequent this area. Deuce had seen skeletons before, but never ones with their heads drooped, or even entirely missing as the one of guitarist was. He watched as the sloppy crowd began to sway with the music, almost entranced. Deuce was busy surveying the crowd when a crack of sound like thunder made the skittish man leap out of his skin violently, hitting his knee on the way back down behind the table. The pain thankfully caused his poor eye to shut tight with his curse, saving it from seeing the flash of fire that overtook center stage, yet making him unable to see the tall, curved figure of a man appear, hands already raised to receive an applause that surely came. It wasn’t until Deuce was able to open his eye again did he see the man who stood on the stage, unable to be missed. The spotlights, having drawn themselves to this single figure showed everything to be seen, even from the far area Deuce stood. He couldn’t believe his eye.

“King?” was all that could pass his lips, his mind reeling the fastest it’d ever had, for his eye were drinking in every inch of the suave man, who now bowed toward the cheering crowd. Deuce had no control of his actions anymore, mind numbed, for his eye would not leave that figure, who stood there like a dream, quite literally, fogged sight and all, with the threat of passing out becoming apparent from the darkening corner of his eye if he didn’t breathe soon. He didn’t even notice he’d moved until he was shoved by a man who had fallen, out cold, bringing him back to reality, where he stood dead center in the cheering crowd. What happened next he wouldn’t be able to remember, as his mind, unused to such strong emotions, shut down almost to protect itself, but others in the crowd would recall perfectly in the morning, as the perfect smug smile spread across this royal looking Die’s face, before the song they all knew began to play.

Deuce would not understand this song even if he could hear it over the blood in his ears, for he had never left his Isle, but would have made his search much easier. Maybe it was because of the deep baritone voice or just the thought of those days long gone, but tears had begun to fall down Deuce’s cheeks. At first silent, his chest began to quiver, a sob building from deep within. Feeling his chest heave, Deuce began to feel the tears become a river down his cheeks, soaking them and dappling his collar, not unlike the one other time he’d cried. He heard the call of his brother the last time they had been together, and it was this that made his sobbing overpass the cheers of the crowd, loud enough to drift onto the stage, where a certain King could faintly hear. The singing did not falter, and no one but the skeletal band noticed a change in their singer, who all shrunk as their boss’s eye began to twitch, common when he was distracted by what he called “Commoners”. They began to play louder, to cover up the disturbance, which to their slight discomfort seemed to rise with their music. One skeleton could only remember a sound like this when he rode on the Phantom Express, not a good sign.


	3. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reunion of the brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cough cough* King's a Diva because this gay writer is too, and the Deuce of the writers enaabblleesss *cough cough*

DICE POV.  
His body swung with the sound of his voice, but inside he was slowly getting heated. This annoying sound from the crowd was coming forward, overcoming HIS beautiful song! His music was a strong reason people came back, and if this CRYING sound outdid him, the Boss would be angry. His eye twitched in agitation, only slightly, something he praised himself for teaching his younger self. He wished a very large amount to leap into the crowd and muffle the crying drunkard, but raised his voice instead, inside his head playing the words of his Boss over and over. He could still feel the hot breath on his face from that conversation, a welt on his younger, less-pain-tolerant cheek after snapping at the Devil over a bad day, though he barely felt the alcohol-drenched breath over his own hot skin, which was quite red from rage.

“Image is everything to you kid, you are nothing here but an image for MY casino!! You bring in money to ME, and you do whatever it takes to benefit ME!!” the Boss had spat out, unknown that the stupidly immature teen Die before him wouldn’t listen till years later.

Now, his life revolved around that motto, image is everything, which was quite good, since living with the Devil had made Dice rather...impulsive, and petty. And angry. Dice felt his lips purse gently, not unlike his brother moments before. Sometimes HE wanted to be as petty as the Boss, but someone had to be the adult. And this adult was nearing the end of his song, where he would very much like to give that man a piece of his mind once the curtains closed. And maybe the Boss a piece of this suckers soul. He scanned the crowd ever so slightly, squinted as much as possible to conceal the green that had become very vibrant in his anger. Living in Hell, he’d gotten quite good at seeing in the dark, and his eyes scanned for the signs of a crying face, head drooped, the faint outline of the lips curled down in a sea of smiles. He had just scanned the area for these simple signs, but stopped in his tracks at a very strange feature. A figure snug in the middle, had such a...strange look. No, not a look, a head. A very SQUARE head. Dice found himself tracing the edges, the perfect square, not unlike his. He felt a tinge in the back of his head, an itch, often what happened when he had forgotten something, which often happened, working at a casino where every day was different. He racked his mind of his days at this place he called home, maybe an old customer, maybe an old time regular. No, not that, Dice thought as he scanned what little he could see of the man’s clothes. They were not….of wealth, the shoulders having fuzz from coming undone, a strange….floating hat…. The Die widened his eyes to take in more, and saw a color, a mustard yellow color on the clothes, quite an old color, one he’d only seen back in his childhood, an old seamster loved the color. He listlessly passed over the man, and saw the frown he was looking for, the frown right under a yellow small pip of a nose, where the tip of a scar the shape of a…..

The mic he held nearly dropped had it not been attached to the stand, and the song for the first time in the history of the Devil’s casino stopped. Everyone stopped their swaying, and looked up, to see a look on the King’s face, one not often seen. His jaw slacked open rather uncouth like, his eyes wide and almost alarmed. No one in the crowd could see those green, wide eyes securely locked on with the eyes of the bigger die’s eye, who’s was locked right back.

DEUCE’S POV  
Deuce still couldn’t contain himself. Was it really his 'little' brother? Tears were still running like rivers down his cheeks, he could even feel his own hands started to shake. It had to be right? Just the memory of the old days with their mom, well…. Unlike King, Deuce could not carry a tune to save his life, and here stood a Die, belting out in the beautiful fashion only his mother had had when she sang for her family and fans. Deuce prayed for the second time that day that this was exactly the same, God how he hoped this was the same. 

DICE POV.  
King's jaw still hung slack-jawed as the band slowly gave up on their tunes and stared at him in panic, their nonexistent eyes flashing around the two sides of the stage, ready for the Devil to come rushing as He always did when any act failed, though it was often replaced with the slack-jawed man who now stared into the crowd. Only King knew what he was doing, and he slowly pulled his hands away from the mic stand and clapped his hands, a pink die appearing like a parry, floating around. He slowly cupped it and threw it up, where it obeyed its master like it always did, gliding peacefully to the front of the man who stared at up, the pink shine of the die lighting up his yellow buttoned face. People couldn’t even turn in time, as the second the tearful face was lit Dice himself was no longer on stage, having leapt off and onto the nearest playing table. He flashed his head back at the band in a sharp gesture, holding the mic he had taken along in his hand. The well-trained band immediately began the song from the first note, where Dice tapped his foot, turning back to the ground. His face lit up again, his typical swooning appearance returning, as he swung his body with the music like before, his foot tapping, the crowd sank back into their routine of dancing, no one paying much mind to anything but his voice, which had come back, and his jazzy movements. No, no one noticed his eyes secured to the man, or the hand that had risen to point right at Deuce, a firm warning where Dice was heading. And his grin turned into a hungry beam, showing that unlike Deuce, Dice had no doubt, and knew who this dingy, teary man was, and was ecstatic.

DEUCE POV.  
Deuce’s only good eye blinked a bit, tears were still running down his cheeks but….he wasn’t crying rivers anymore. He slowly now had no doubts. The Die he saw before him WAS King. And something that never had shown on his face for a long time slowly appeared which still looked odd with the rivers of tears.

DICE POV.  
King would laugh about this later, mostly out of embarrassment, but at the moment he didn’t even think twice. King had a rule in this casino, enforced by himself, and the Devil, that unless he was on the dealing side of the tables, he would not touch a customer. This was appointed for many reasons, either his distaste of touching drunk slobs, or Devil’s own budding jealousy back in those days, but King had himself, never touched a customer when he sang, for quite obvious, swinging reasons. Charm, class, respect, pride, all these things drew people to him, and drew him away from others, but the minute he saw that smile, that goofy, almost too big for its face smile under that yellow pip, he began to swing into the crowd like a goddamn fool, twirling around people, grabbing women by their hands and giving a twirl, only to release them mid swing into the arms of a man, specifically one OUT of King's way, he flew through the crowd almost like he was joining the festivities, twining with them all the way till his gloved hand grabbed the hand of a man, a man the crowd hadn’t noticed, and didn’t quite figure out when looking, their drunken minds not understanding the sight of two, almost identical men, the differences between them not getting through the alcohol. No, as the song played their fading vision just saw two 'King Dice's dancing together, the only difference being the color, as the 'King Dice's danced farther and farther away. No one but the band noticed that the closer the song got to the end, the farther Dice was getting from the stage, and closer to the front doors. And it was only them that noticed that Dice’s mic had come unplugged, and his voice was so loud because he was belting out the song at the top of his lungs, especially the memorable lines “I’m Mr. King Dice!”. And they were the only witnesses to the fact that King was the dancer, and the slightly taller die was pressed into his chest, face hidden, arms wrapped around so King could lead him away. And that’s all they saw, for the minute the song ended, Dice in one movement threw the Casino's front doors open and was gone from sight, the heavy doors slamming shut on their own from the mere force from how they were opened. They scratched their skulls in confusion, not knowing that they’d have to tell the Boss that King had not only left the building, but had left Inkwell Hell, and was in fact on the train tracks, holding the bigger die to his chest almost in a death grip, his sharp, perfectly done eyes streaked with mascara stains, which for the first time had been allowed to drip and thoroughly ruined his white shirt, and the yellow hat that had tucked itself under his chin.  
“You don’t know how long I’d been trying to find ya, King…”

King swallowed the lump in his throat, giving a disbelieving laugh. “How did you find me, ya big lug? Inkwell Hell ain’t close to the hometown we lived in! Where have ya been Deuce...how did you….” he swallowed, pulling his collar subconsciously, his face as grim as the thought he’d had of his brother, orphaned before the age of 11, no family or money.

Deuce was quiet at first. He didn’t really want his brother to know the full story of the hardships he had after that day, not now. He pulled out the torn poster he had. “Found it on a lamppost outside my…”

“DICCCCCCEEEEE!” The flinch of the purple Casino manager was so apparent, his sharp chin knocked Deuces hat to the floor as quickly as it sent Deuce to the floor when King stood up quick, both nearly falling off the station chair and onto the tracks.

“Oh Hell, the Boss!! Oh no, not now, not like this, my MAKEUP!?” he screeched almost childlike, wiping his wet eyes, resulting in massive smearing and a black sleeve.

“Bro…” The once smile had fallen back to its frown once Deuce heard the familiar voice. King visibly shrunk after seeing how quickly the smile had faltered. He sheepishly gave a miserable smile. 

“A deal with the Devil is a deal, and it’s a lifelong mistake, heh…Look, brother, the Boss owns these tracks, His train will arrive shortly, maybe in 20 minutes, I advise you hop on!” he whispered, pulling out a bright white handkerchief, shortly stained with the black of major mascara abuse. “The Phantom Express will take you anywhere, I do not advice running around here at night alone. I…..I need to go, He’s going to be so….major alcohol will be needed for this tantrum...” he murmured out, rubbing his wrists in a sense of panic and comfort.

“I’m NOT going. Not without you.” Deuce said “It took me YEARS just to find you again.” King wrung his gloved hands hard, putting a hand under his right eye, which had begun its twitching. 

“Brother, you don’t understand, the Boss OWNS this place, even these tracks 3 Isles away! If He catches you, He will hurt you! And not just hurt you, but get away with it, He has a whole CASINO full of followers that will pitch that he was in the right!” He spoke sternly, looking down gently. “He knows how to make it seem like self-defense. He will frame you, we’ve done it many times.”

“I don’t FUCKING care!” Deuce growled “I dealt with His shit before! You of all people should know that!” King straightened up, looking his brother deep in his eye, with something Deuce was not expecting. 

“Do you see these eyes! Do you see these bright, acidic green eyes? He OWNS me, my soul, body, time, and everything that makes a person’s life! I have been living in His territory for most of my life, and I AM NO MATCH! You got away once brother, with a missing eye. Don’t make it a missing heart!”

“King….” King grabbed his brother's worn glove in one hand firmly. 

“Listen, Deuce. Now is not the time. I have made quite a scene tonight, and He will be quite unstable, if he finds out it was a person who escaped eternity in Hell.” he whispered, before blinking gently, opening them once the green was gone. “Come tomorrow, be discrete! He never wakes up before 2 in the afternoon if He isn’t woken up. I wake around 4, and I will come to the front, meet me, and we will talk then. DO NOT, tell anyone you were here, and please, be safe.” he softly spoke, before grabbing his brother’s arm and pulling him into a deep hug, feet gently perked to reach his cheek to rest on his brother's shoulder like when they were children. “Get on the Phantom Express, tell them your name, and they will let you on. They know better.”

Deuce sighed; he knew he couldn’t argue with his little brother even if he tried. The frown was still on his face but a small smile poked through. “Very well…”

Dice smiled gently, his eyes looking quite tired without his massive makeup to cover it up, and reached up and kissed his brother on the top of his head, just like their dad used to when both were upset. After placing his brother’s head back on his shoulders, he gently stepped back, giving a practiced bow. “Till tomorrow big brother, do be safe!” he beamed, before twisting his legs like a twirl, when the movement began the floor below his shadow fell, and the snazzy Die plummeted. Before Deuce could even take a step it snapped closed, and he was alone on a train station alone at night.


	4. The Story's Rolling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deuce goes home alone, ya'll meet the room mate, and it's a jolly old drunk time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oWo Hey there, hope you're enjoying so far! Just wanna say, this was written nearly half a year ago, and the writing is kinda meh, sooo, give it a bit, the tone will pick up! I can only change our script so much!

Deuce sighed, reaching into his jacket and pulled out the flask he always kept there. He unscrewed the top and quickly took a drink from what was inside. To most quite bitter, but to him grew a warm fire in his belly. Liquid confidence was what Deuce loved from his only nighttime companion, and like no one else kept him company for 20 minutes in a dusty train station until the train pulled up. Seeing a living train was scary, being invited on by a pair of pistons was creepier, having a living skeleton question who you were was worse, though honestly sitting on a plush train seat beside a rotting soul was the worst, even when an empty socketed spirit gave you a plate of cookies. The blue ghost was nice enough to ask for his destination, and after saying his bar’s obscure name, was given a phone to call someone to pick him up from the station. He’d left Smokes alone with no word, he was gone for a smoke break only, oh the poor boy would be worried. And when the boy worried, everyone should be. Deuce took another drink from his flask. He dialed the number of his bar, and it rang for the typical 3 rings before he heard the meek, almost wispy voice.

“Hello, this is the Isle 3 Family Bar, how may we be of assistance?” spoke the almost tender voice. Damn, he was good at this.

“Smokes, it’s me.” 

“........Mmm! Where ya at? You’ve been gone for so long, I started the dishes! I didn’t eat anything, I’ve just been washing.” the voice whined adorably. Anyone would have thought the voice was of such concern, but Deuce heard the warning. Doing chores was how the little Cigar wasted time until the problem was solved. Biding time as it were.

“Smokes….please tell me the bar is safe….” 

His reply was a long sigh, very long, until a much deeper version of the tender voice came on. “Yes boss, it’s still standing. I ate all the lollipops for the kids before I grabbed my lighter. What’s wrong boss. You sound tired.” Smokes drawled. Deuce couldn’t help but relax, believe it or not the deeper voice was safety to him. Smokes rarely used it around a group, but always used it when he could tell his boss wasn’t right.

Deuce sighed. “I will tell you when I get home….” and got a humming 'mmm' in turn. 

“You’ll have a bottle of jack in the back when I come get ya. There will be a bath when you get home.” Smokes drawled. Smokes knew how to make his boss relax, getting drunk before the deep talk, and a bath to let the words run. Deuce would really only think that since the disaster, Smokes was the only one to see him nude, and felt a tiny pang. A boy so young, having to flop a drunkard in a bath, and dress his unconscious ass before putting him to bed. If they had the profit, he’d give the poor boy a raise.

“Thanks Smokes. See you in a bit.”

“Course’ boss. See ya soon.” and with that the phone went dead. Deuce laid back in his seat and looked out the window the entire ride, only moving to drink and maybe nibble a cookie before the train stopped. By then he had gone to his typical stupor, and walked out one foot in front of the other rather flamboyantly, 'surely' only so he wouldn’t fall on his face. The only person on the station was the tall, lanky looking young adult by the station door, dark tongue flicking out to show it’s rainbow glory. Oh my, he sure had eaten every lollipop they had, the lone survivor about to meet the same fate. On his caramel skin held his adorable smile, eyes shut though, perked in a happy crescent. Deuce couldn’t help but wonder if his eyes had gone from their deep wine color to the almost orange flames he had when he was mad or worried, but either way he was comfort, already removing his giant jacket for his boss to take. Deuce took no time strutting up as fast as possible and taking it, wrapping it around himself and letting the tall skinny man drag him away like a drunken celebrity avoiding paparazzi. He soon was pushed into the backseat of a very dingy, beaten up car, his foot knocking into a bottle of jack just for him as Smokes jumped over the front hood and hopping into the driver's seat. Soon they were off, and the car was filled with Smokes’s namesake, which today had a scent of lavender. Deuce inhaled, being so scent sensitive, natural plant added to ash was a nice welcome. He leaned back into the set. It was a silent ride, well, not silent, Smokes was humming along to the radio, but Deuce didn’t have to think so it was peaceful.

They arrived at the wooden, handmade bar, Deuce being led to the back of the empty building where their 'Home' was, a couch full of stitching patches, the ash making it look speckled, a tiny black and white tv, a radio on a stool, and a bed in the corner for Deuce. Smokes bed was in the back, near the bathroom where they were heading. Deuce closed his eye before entering the bright bathroom, and kept them shut until his naked body flopped into a pool of water, slightly cold by this point, giving him a start. Smokes stood over him with his big leather jacket over his arms, Deuces cloths being nudged into a corner. 

“Sorry ‘bout the temp' Boss, the heater broke, and it can’t be fixed ‘till Tuesday.” Smokes chirped, flopping his jacket over his leg to try to poof the ash off of it. “So, ready to talk?”

Deuce sighed, putting the neck of the bottle to his lips. “I found my little bro….”

Smokes jerked at this. If one thing had ever passed between those two, it’s all the love this drunk asshole had for his brother. Smokes lost his wiggly smile and got a frown, his canines were more pointed out of being unused, since meat was often too expensive for the 2 roommates.

“So…..how’d….that go..?”

Deuce sighed, taking another drink from the bottle. “...That stupid fuzzball still has him wrapped around his finger…”

Smokes chewed gently on his lip, eyes down. “It is the Devil boss. Devil ain’t nothin’ to shake a finger at. I’m a Cigar, and even our people beg to never go to Satan’s inferno.” Deuce took a much longer drink. “I’m not picking a fight boss. Many people go to that InkWell Hell and never come back.” He whispered, twirling his finger around his jackets pocket. The outline of the lighter was there, a pout about to make this living cigar into a sad puppy. Deuce couldn’t think so well through the Jack, but the big figure in the casino with the ash popped in and out, though every time it left it was definitely gone. Cigars and Die had the problem of very much looking alike.

“I’m...NOT leaving my little brother there…” Deuce takes another drink. 

“Is...it even possible for him to leave though?” The Cigar hummed, beginning to polish his boss’s face of mess. Drunk most of his life or not, if he was angry he was a mess. “Most of the people to make a deal and get away are…..well, random people who pop in, make a mistake and run. You were kids when it happened, and, well, you’re reaching mid-40’s now. I can’t imagine the Devil would find a live-in employee that old going missing and just shrug it off.” 

Deuce drank almost sheepishly, since the Cigar would know all too well, with his own many disappearing acts. “I’ll...not…..no….shut up…”

Smokes rolls his eyes. “Not being bitter boss, I’m just saying. If he lived in the Casino, he’s a 30+ year resident. Sit up, you’re about to get a mouth full of water.” Deuce sighed but complied. “Good. Did he see you? Will you go back? Will you do...anything?” Smokes questioned. Drunk Deuce often told the truth more than Sober Deuce, being drunk held back no ego or stupidity. A drunken smile appeared on Deuce’s face. Smokes got his answer. “I’m hiding the car keys. It’s a 20-minute drive to the train station, I have longer legs, I dare you.”

“But….ya soooooo...short….”

“Boss I am twice as tall as you when you were my age, and I do all the maintenance and hard work while you get drunk. You are mostly alcohol and bad choices, and my entire body is muscle.”

“But…..ya….so...cuuuuuuute..” and with that Deuce dropped the conversation for a while, being content to crunch up the adorable baby face of his roommate. Smokes looked to the side in annoyance. This was common for the drunk Deuce from the very beginning, if too intoxicated anything he deemed adorable would be touched, like a young child to a puppy. Smokes allowed it for a while until the older man became sober enough to reach sad drunk. Smokes was once again given his face, for the good of both of them. Deuce had no idea how close he came to a black eye half the times he did this. Deuce pats Smokes’s cheek. Smokes sighed and puffed his cheek with air, making it funnier for his poor boss. He spoke through the other side gently. 

“Look boss, if ya promise to be safe, and not get yourself mauled by a demon, I’d let ya go. I just need to make sure you’ll come home. We both know how hard it is when a person you look up to and love doesn’t come home. A lot of responsibilities, lotta heartache. I can’t lose ya boss, I live with ya, make a career with ya, hell I even take care of ya, and you in turn make it so we can live. We ain’t the richest, by any means, and our life is, well, kinda a dump! We both know it, but at least it’s a safe dump, and cuz I live with ya, I need to keep ya safe. When ya wake up, I’m gon’ ask if you’ll be safe. And I don’t want to lies. I know when ya do it.” 

“I...didddn’t know...you care….”

“Course’ I do boss. Lotsa people care, you’re just too drunk to know, or even remember~” Smokes chuckled, patting the flat head of his yellow tinted boss. The drunk flush was growing, Smokes knew he’d be out in less than 5 minutes. “And even when you don’t remember, I know you care too. You Die are just hard asses.” Deuce took a LONG drink from the bottle. Smokes pulled the drunkard up a bit by his arms, letting Deuces eye shut for the night, his head slacked forward like dead weight. Smokes pulled the bigger man out of the tub with a bit of effort, dabbed the water enough to dress him in a pair of boxers and a giant shirt, and dropped him on his bed. He flipped the blanket over Deuce, and went through with his promise, the keys to the car finding themselves under Smokes’s head as the night went by, peaceful, till the screaming groan of the known hangover of the morning.

Like every hungover morning, Deuce didn’t get out of bed from pain until the only light he'd see was the smoldering of Smoke’s embers, as he tried to get his boss to swallow the painkillers and morning-after pills. It took Deuce almost 2 hours of being babied to even remember the content of yesterday, surprisingly the one day he remembered every event till his unfortunate pass out. It was then that all war broke out between the stubborn Die and the condescending Cigar as the house was torn looking for the car keys. Smokes tried not to laugh too much, his boss was motivated by love for his brother, but seeing him crawl under the sink to find something 3 rooms away was entertaining. “Smokes...WHERE are they?”

“Somewhere away from you until you PROMISE ME.” he huffed smugly. For a 20-year-old he still enjoyed being such a teasing teen.

Deuce gave a glare at him with his one eye. Which looked a bit silly cause he was still wearing only his boxers and a wife beater. Smokes held back the urge to look at the boxers he’d chosen to give him, his boss in boxers littered with smiley faces while trying to glare daggers was priceless, but he held back. 

“All I need is a promise boss. If you come home, un-mauled, I will give them to you. If you have any idea in your head to pick a fight with Lucifer, you’re grounded to this bar till then. I already told ya I’d chase ya’ down, and with how you cussed out all our neighbors, well, you ain’t stupid enough to hitchhike. Your hands are tied boss.”

“First I’m older than you. Second this wouldn’t be my first time being mauled by the fuzzball.” he jabbed a finger at the scarred eye for emphasis.

Smokes inhaled with a roll of his crescent eyes. “First, older does not mean wiser. Second, good lot that did ya eh? Lost your only remaining family and lost your stinkin’ eye. Best case scenario you get to be blind the rest of your life, and still don’t get your brother. You need to get it through your square dome boss, you ain't winnin’, at least not now! Being reckless is exactly what your brother did, wasn’t it.” He sharpened his voice on the last sentence, specifically jabbing a hot chord of Deuce’s. “You have spat again and again ‘Oh King, why’d ya gotta go play big brother, why couldn’t ya have just held off and we coulda found a better way, you coulda been here, ya coulda BEEN SAFE IF YA’D JUST HELD OFF AND LET ME HELP’. Well, ain’t ya just doing the same thing ya spit at your beloved brother for?”

Deuce sighed. Smokes sat silent, hands behind his back, waiting for the boss to take it in and make his own mind. “Very well...I promise.”

Smokes took one second to look over Deuce’s face, before turning and leaving the room, soon returning with the old dingy keychain. “Be safe boss. Call me if you need a getaway. I’ll run the bar while you’re gone.” He said, meaningfully not letting go of the key’s till it was flat in his bosses hand, a final warning. Deuce turned quickly to leave, running out the front door. Smokes just sipped water expectantly till Deuce came running back in red-faced and shivering.

“Smiley faces, really!?!” was all Smokes heard over his own laughter as the boss ran back out, jacket not even fully on.

“Ahh, have fun boss man~!” he said, before switching the front door sign to “Open”. 

DEUCE’S POV. 

He nearly floored it to the station and was just in time before the said leaving train was about to leave. He boarded so quickly that he left a mess of knocked over passengers in the wake, the only one being saved from the massacre of damage only being a flower man who was jumpy enough to climb on top of the poor annoyed Conductor, who glared at the Die man through his empty sockets like he did last night. The skeletal asshole once again grumbled at the “rude dice-face without a ticket or manners.” as the pistons and spirit had to take turns trying to peel the orange flower off the bag of bones. Deuce took great enjoyment watching the entire crew fight a single flower who spat and hissed not unlike the fuzzball he had, annoyingly, promised to avoid. The entertainment continued till the final stop at Inkwell hell, Deuce making sure to tip his hat at the very angry 'asshat' who had cursed him out, since the carnation was now in the arms of the eyeless spirit who was having a hard time carrying him and the flower pot they’d imprisoned him in. Deuce hopped off just as the flower pot was flopped on the station, the flower still holding what looked like a finger bone of the skeleton. Deuce took one second to wink a thank you at the flower, who smirked and tossed the finger at him before walking off. Deuce happily took the boney trophy as a good luck charm and made his way on the other side of the tracks. He started looking for his brother from where he said he would be. 

Sure enough, on the steps in nothing but a knee-length robe, stood his baby brother, jittery in the cold. Deuce would have giggled, if not for the visible black eye he sported, though it was more purple, like the blood that ran through him. He hurried over to him in full force big brother mode.

King heard his running steps and ran to him also, a goofy smile on his face. A full body hug came from the smaller die, nearly knocking them both over.

“Wooh, I thought you mighta been a mirage~!! How’s my big brother!” King said with nearly childlike giddiness.

“King? What happened? Did that fuzzball do this?” Deuce asked looking quite worried, and also might really wanted to kick some ass if it wasn’t for the promise he had made.

Dice reached up to poke the eye gently. “Oh, well, uh, half and half sorta. He locked me in his office shortly after I’d come back, told me to clean myself up. I tried, but couldn’t get it right, so I didn’t go back out. He got mad, and a chase happened, to say, I threw a vase and almost got punished, if I hadn’t tripped over my own shoes and landed eye first on his desk. Wouldn’t been bad if he hadn’t knocked into me and, well, now I got a shiner and the Boss wouldn’t let me leave the office. I got 2 days off, thank Hell.” He said so casually. Deuce had never really known someone in an abusive situation, he knew there were excuses and lies, but, this was the Devil’s land, and he really did not know if stupid shit like being chased around a room and landing on a desk was a common occurance.

Deuce still looked a bit worried at his brother but smiled softly anyway. King knew the face, and smiled softly back. 

“Devil isn’t much for, well, punching.” he said, gently stroking the 3 deep, long lines on his brother’s face. “Very hard to resist, um, the harsher punishment, if ya know what I mean.”

Deuce was quiet for a bit. “Yes but…” 

Dice smiled encouragingly, gently hip bumping his brother. “Speaking of the “Fuzzball”, was it? He won’t be up for a long time, lemme sneak out a shirt and some overalls, and we can get away from here, ease ya up ok? I won’t even put on a vest!” he said, like that was such a big punishment. Deuce was beginning to wonder how big his brother’s vanity was if leaving a simple vest was a sacrifice at 5 in the morning.

Even so just hearing his brother wanted to get out put a smile on his face again. Dice beamed quite happily at the smile, giving a finger gun pose before running to the giant pillar to the side of the casino. Deuce looked up to see a single window, suddenly swallowing. Was that where the Devil was? God, if he’d come to attack, he’d have to climb more stairs then ever in his life just to see the man. A secret thanks to Smokes was sent while he waited for his brother.

Deuce leaned on the railing of the stairs as he waited for him. 30 minutes passed. Only then did his brother come, in freshly pressed pants, a crisp as hell shirt, and his makeup done, his eye covered in a hat similar to Deuce, only none floating, and a velvet purple veil cloaking his bad eye. Deuce couldn’t help the pursed lips he got, 5 in the morning and his brother looked like him on a brilliant day.

“Where do you wish to go?” 

King thought deep. His sudden long, deep thought made his brother feel a twinge of sadness. It was quickly becoming apparent his brother did not get out much. Deuce wondered if taking his brother home was a good idea. Hi brother was busy pulling a tiny mirror from his pocket and softening the white around his bad eye, obviously letting him take the reigns. Deuce thought of Smokes, and his promise to be a getaway driver. He wondered slightly if that meant Smokes would go down with him, or if when he saw King, their first hours together would be surrounded by ash and broken alcohol bottle shards. 

Deuce’s mind was made up. Home was the only other place he can think of right now for the two of them. King seemed to notice the change, and snapped the mirror shut, grinning. “Let’s go shall we?” 

“King...when did you become mom?”

King blinked and grinned a sleazy smile. “Who cares, when you got it, flaunt it~” he snickered. He put the mirror in his pocket and offered his arm, perfect to link like when they were little kids. Deuce couldn’t help but smile again.


	5. Meeting Your Brother for the 2nd Time in Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in year, both brothers get to sit down and finally restart knowing each other, and getting back in each others lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop more chapters, yay! 
> 
> Also I want to give a shout-out to Elincia_Montoya, a user on here! I'd recommend going to see their things and go check them out, they're a lovely person, and deserve some good love!

In such a short time they were on the train once again, the flower back on too it seemed. King seemed to be distracted by his brother by his side, having tucked himself into Deuce's and for once it wasn’t silent, Deuce had suddenly gotten motor mouth, and King was doing nothing but laughing and splitting his sides, his laugh so infectious Deuce was beginning to join in, his unused giggle sounding like a creaking door. It was by far the fastest ride in his life. Deuce only noticed the flower whenever King’s face would peak out of its nest in Deuces jacket, because Deuce would see the flower laughing and snickering with the Spook and Pistons, but when King’s voice rang, all 4 immediately seemed to shrink, especially with the flower and his giant petals closing and hiding the yellow face. Deuce wouldn’t notice very much until later the way people reacted to his brother, not knowing the signs quick enough because every time he’d look from the flower to his quieter brother, all he saw was a tiny cute face all rosy cheeked from laughter. No one approached them, until they were in front of his bar.

“What do you think bro?” Deuce asked a smile.

King didn’t respond, his big black eyes sparkling. He only replied by doing a rather “Uncouth” movement, running inside without wiping his feet, dragging his brother along with a mischievous giggle. 

“Smokes!” Deuce called out with a laugh.

The young Cigar responded by looking up from the drink he was pouring for a customer with wide, startled eyes. King picked up on the Cigar's face immediately and gave his brother a grin.

 

“Apparently you laugh as much as I do in the morning~” he giggled, quickly dragging his brother like a willing chew toy across the room. He held out his perfectly gloved white hand to the young man before stopping himself. He scanned the smaller man with wider eyes.

“Are….are you a cigar..? Brother, is he a cigar!” King boomed excitedly. 

“Yes…”

Dice muffled a small squeal, his hands jittering on the bar's counter in excitement. “I heard there was so many of them here years ago, looky here at this one! Wheezy wasn’t kidding, they are all different! He’s a cute button of a Cigar!”

“Wheezy...wait a minute there...Smokes didn’t you said one of your brothers was named Wheezy?”

Both Die looked at the tiny cigar and fell deathly silent, for the once cute “Button” now had a forced smile seemingly wanting to detach his face in half. King slowly shrunk as the once cute cigar pointed a rather warning finger at him. Deuce was quick to get between the two, holding King out of reach from the Cigar who had the purple lapel in hand. “He’s attacking me, what did I do!!” Dice said in alarm through narrowed eyes. Deuce felt kinda bad, his brother seemed to not know of all Cigar's short fuses. Thank god no lighters were there to begin a spark.

“Smokes…..here.” Deuce pulled from the bars cabinet some candy. Smokes, well trained, grabbed and ate all of them in one piece. Deuce had to explain to King the situation, and only then did King pull his lapel free, brushing his shirt gently.

“Oh, I...I see. Wheezy came before me, did not know he…..well, I’m sorry I did not ask him how he got....employed. Sorry little button, I did not mean to upset.” He said formally. Smokes rubbed his mouth a bit until he calmed down his temper, if not getting a deep frown.

“You ain’t here for me to ruin this. I’ll serve ya, but we talkin’ later 'fancy pants'.” he huffed before returning back to behind the bar.

Deuce sighed, glad that was over with. King snickered softly. “I wonder if you and the Boss met, if that’d be any different, mm~?” he said, nudging Deuce gently in the side. “Lighten up, that was tame, intense, but short! He’s still a button!”

Deuce sighed but pushed it away to smiled at his brother. “Are you hungry?”

King beamed brightly, regaining the hold on his brother's arm. “Incredibly so, wanna cook something? I’m quite good at cooking nowadays, if I may brag!”

“Oh?” 

“Oh yes, people rarely know how to cook at the casino, usually because they never really get the chance before they’re on the casino floor! Let’s cook!!” King chuckled, dragging his brother to their small kitchen. Deuce did not have much food, but soon every item he had in his fridge was on the counter, King holding and looking at a box of baking soda with a raised eyebrow. 

“Is something wrong?”

“A lot of your food is, well, 3 days past the expiration date!” King said, fiddling with the box. “Do you go….grocery shopping much?”

Deuce looked down at the floor, looking a bit...ashamed? “Well….”

King picked up the tone immediately, and quickly clearing his throat. “Sorry, it’s fine; I can make something out of this easy! I'm just so used to, well, if the lettuce gets one brown leaf it’s fed to the racehorses and we go shopping for a whole list all over again. The Devil has 3 fridges believe it or not!” Dice chuckled awkwardly, trying to lift his brother's feelings. 

It was Deuce’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Dice twiddled with his hat's lace. “He uh….only the best for Satan, I suppose?” he offered. Deuce sighed again. King smiled gently, bumping his brother in the side playfully. “Hey, if we get rid of perfectly good food, you can have it! It's often cake he doesn’t want anymore 'cuz the frosting got 'matured'!” Dice offered, finger guns at the ready.

Deuce couldn’t help but smile and gave back his own, giggling a bit. “Dad sure hated when we did this.”

“And we did it right in his face till the day he croaked! I’m bringing it back~” Dice giggled, firing his finger guns teasingly. 

“Eey.”

“Eey!” The brothers started laughing. Everyone in the bar was extremely concerned to hear the scraping laugh of the bar’s owner. Smokes was scrubbing glass to death to just hearing it. The brothers stayed in the back, cooking up a storm, wasting about an hour for the simple fact that whatever they made, King flung a bit at his brother, who ate it proudly, becoming stained in many goopy colors. Soon, a big, colorful breakfast was on the counter. King grabbed plates while Deuce just ate a blue pancake. He had missed this for the longest time. King beamed his seemingly always present beam, sliding a giant stack of childly colored pancakes on his own plate, immediately nibbling the purple one. 

“We have so much to catch up on, oh Hell where to start!” King chewed through his pancake to say. The brothers, due to their immense cheekbones, were both looking like stuffed squirrels at this point.

“Yes…” 

King just grinned eagerly at what to say. Deuce wondered if living with Satan had taken away all his brother’s ability to feel shame, for King was being an adorable angel sitting in a kitchen that looked cheaper than his pants. But Deuce smiled anyways. King didn’t seem to notice the awkwardness, instead asking a day old question. “Ever met anyone? Fling, girl, boooooy?” 

Deuce looks down at the table. “...His name is Jack…”

King immediately got cheeky and eager. “And Jack iiiissss?”

“...Sometimes parties with coke…”

“Jack likes cok-” Dice started, before noticing the bottles of jack stacked around the bottle-filled trash can beside the fridge. King’s face went blank, before his eyes slowly slid to his brother. “........I hope he treats you…..right…?”

“...The only one that cares….” Deuce said solemnly. King decided to be quiet about the smoke that began billowing through the doorway, clearing his throat before he pushed the protective Cigar to make another attack. 

“Well, Jack’s gonna have to back off or share, 'cuz I'm here now, and maybe I would rather show ya, uh, a whole casino full of people that care!” he offered, awkwardly. He would never call his brother pathetic, but he couldn’t help wanting to sneer at the fact he was telling his brother to flirt with alcohol.

“....Don’t know....promised Smokes not to beat the crap out of the Fuzzball.” 

Dice gently bit his lip to hide the smile. “The cigar knows better, heh. Let’s just say when the Boss met us, he used a child-friendly height, he’s uh, he’s not often the size of a man anymore. More like a bear, when he’s in a good mood! A swing at your height would just right into the pelvis fur.” he said, avoiding the word ass or crotch was hard. He didn’t want his brother throwing up though.

“Good cause that’s probably where I would aim.”

Deuce spent about 15 minutes picking his brother off the floor from the jackal laughter King had gotten. Deuce wondered if anyone had actually gone to punch Satan in the dick, but his brother sure found it funny! King composed himself enough to sit in a chair while he giggled. 

“Oohh, you need an adult when you come to the casino!” he giggled, having no shame in shaming his own brother.

“I am an adult.”

“You’re a child that can reach the top shelf without a stool~” 

“Are you saying I’m short LITTLE bro?” Deuce said with a smirk “Last time I checked you’re the short one.” He rested his arm on top of his brother’s head to prove a point. King tensed harshly and got this deeply annoyed look like a horrible flashback came to his head, before seemingly snapping out of it before Deuce could back away. Instead, the purple Die got the snarky look he had when he closed that tiny mirror.

“I dare ya to say it when I got my heels on, I’m only 3 inches shorter, try me when I’ve got a 6-inch advantage!” 

“Bro…. when did you become a pussy?”

King seriously looked up in contemplation. “Mmm…..when I was 14? Hormones hit hard when you’re smoking and drinking at age 12! And when you live with Lucifer, there isn’t parental block on what you can and can't do.” he said, dead serious.

Deuce had the look that he REALLY wanted to punch a certain fuzzball hard in the nuts. King’s blush made it obvious that not only was he not joking in the slightest, but maybe 14 was also when he lost all innocence, not just mental. The sudden wonder of who his brother had in his bed at night frightened Deuce, images of drunk, violent patrons gave him a shiver, though, he was wondering if normal folks were….ALL THERE WAS. He had always considering staying sexually-alcoholic. The sudden realization of how much his brother appearance asked for all eyes made his insides twist. He was not ready to live the lifestyle of a sexual-oriented person. His V-Card would stay welcome as his brother tried to calm down his purple cheeks, mind kind of wandering from the talk. Deuce sat there picking at his collar as his brother seemed to go down some sort memory lane. Yup, Alcohol-sexual sounded very nice.

“I’m sorry….” Deuce started

King got a cheeky smile. “Don’t be, I enjoyed bachelor life till I was 17!” he giggled. Deuce’s eyebrow almost went through the ceiling. His brother had been in a relationship since he was 17?! When working at that casino!? How!?

Deuce’s one eye blinks in confusion. “...Wha?... Bro….that’s not how bachelor life works…”

“Yes well….I used to enjoy companions, whenever I wanted! I’ve always preferred sharing a bed for….most….of….my life….so, um.” King tried to save face.

“I should have found you sooner.” King puffed his cheek out at that. His silence said that may have been better for the poor King, he knew. “You became both mom and dad….”

“.....” King fiddled with his mustache's corner, gently brushing his pants to regain the crease. “Thank….you..?” 

“Um…”

“.....Would you ever hate me….for...who I would...see romantically…?” King said out of no where, quietly.

“I would never hate you...you’re my brother. We're family remember?”

Dice smiled gently, slowly feeling reassured. He gently reached under the bottom of his shirt for a ring of keys. On it, a small locket attachment. He put it in Deuce's hand and opening it. One side showed a teen King being held up by, believe it or not, the Fuzzball. The young King looked very….stiff about being held. The second picture was very recent, Dice’s outfit being the one he sang in, this time King was draped over the Devil completely infatuated. In both pictures the Devil looked like nothing but smug.

“We’ve been a feature for so long, we don’t even count anymore, we just count the 10-year marks. We’re nearing the 30th now.” Dice crooned, though there was a careful tone to it.

Deuce’s good eye flicked between the photo's of the locket, a suddenly the frown appeared as he turned away. That fuzzball... he REALLY wanted to kick his furry ass now. Dice looked like he was on a type of cloud 9 just looking at the pictures, completely oblivious to the disgust radiating off his brother from the moment he saw the smug face of the ugly demon. The fact that King’s clothes were in the Devil’s tower made it very obvious where King slept at night, nipping any night time escape out the window for sure. Deuce really wanted to reach for another bottle of his good 'friend' Jack just to dull the disgust. King looked up gently, pressing into his brother’s side to comfort him, clearly knowing how tense Deuce had become.

“Brother, it’s ok! I know you hate em, but he can be....sweet! Until yesterday, I thought I had no family, and he offered me one! I needed that growing up there.” 

“You DO have family! Me!”

“I didn’t know that for 30 years brother! I didn’t know if he’d ever finished you off, or if….you hadn’t……” the once chipper mood was now gone, King’s face showing the true, tired face underneath. King’s let his eyes drooped, tears just beginning to spring up and turn black once again at the dark thought.

Deuce sighed, wiping his hands down his face. “I’m sorry I’d took so long…. You don’t know HOW long it took me to find that damn place….”

Dice smiled sheepishly, dabbing his now wet mascara into place. “Well….honestly it was never your fault. Devil only let us put posters around big developments and businesses...this place looks like it just got a boom in population...besides, the boss loves to be the only center of attention, the promotionalposters usually only had him…” he chuckled a tiny bit.

“I’m glad the fuzzball let his guard down then.” 

Dice rolled his eyes gently. “Let it down, please, too hungover to want to control the photoshoot yes. If I’m in the papers with em, it’s cuz he was too annoyed to deal with people. I’m the one that leads people there, on foot.” 

Deuce couldn’t help but smile again. “Maybe it was fate then.” He pulled the torn poster from his pocket. “If it wasn’t for this on the lamppost outside I wouldn’t have known.”

Dice looked at it, and then him in surprise, before getting a tiny smile. “Possibly, we have a Devil and Angel in our world, something as silly as fate may works!” he said, gently uncurling the paper. He took out from his pocket with the mirror, a container of lipstick, opening it and writing on the poster a big heart.

“To my brother, and a big thanks to fate!” Dice wrote on it, in big, purple cursive. His handwriting was so perfect, it looked typed. 

“Bro you are such a diva.” Deuce said with a laugh.

King winked sassily, his bad eye opening into a smiling shape. “You know it brother!” 

Deuce felt sorry for his brother, just looking at the eye. King noticed the stare and held a blush. “Don’t stare brother, never stare at a person’s blemishes, it’ embarrassing!” he said with a smirk. Goddamnit, his brother was still adorable as shit.

Deuce got up and went to the freezer. “I’m sure these won’t last here long…” he pulled out an ice pack and came over. With his big brother mode working, he placed the ice pack on the eye. “I know you like me but we can’t be twins bro.”

King pouted adorably. “Damn, you pull it off so well! Very much a 'cool' factor with the price of just an eye!” he said jokingly, while leaning into the ice pack, holding still so Deuce can keep holding it. “I appreciate this though brother, Hell isn’t very good for ice packs, they just melt!”

“Figures. Fuzzball needs to chill out.” 

King gritted his teeth to hiss a little. “Devil and cold means early winter coat that I need to clean off all the furniture.”

“My poor little bro.” 

“It’s hard maintaining my lifestyle, it really is…” King said so sadly. Honestly Deuce didn’t doubt it; his brother seemed to need to live in perfection. Just the thought of his brother’s daily routine to just be seen made the older Die cringe and feel like crawling into bed again. Their lives may have different things to stress about, but the yellow Die realized they could both become reborn with a vacation, that was for damn sure!


	6. Baby Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through their first reunion together, Deuce realizes his brother has changed, drastically, and the usually alone Die now had to prepare to adjust to the complete opposite life of his brother. Baby steps are needed, but it may be hard when you turn so quickly to the bottle!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, another day, stay beautiful you all!

Deuce just couldn’t help but smile at that fact. Even though his baby bro was strung up with the fuzzball romantically, he was just glad to have found his brother. He may hate the fuzzball but he loved his bro. Especially when his brother was an adorable, professional version of him! Fate be damned! The urge to hug his brother as hard as a bear was immense, to tell King he wanted to become a pile of sobbing goo like him was so close to coming out. They’d heal the past together!

“Mom would be happy...her lessons paid off for you.”

“Says the one that built and OWNS his own bar! Dad would be patting you on the backwith pride every time you passed!” King laughed. “Do you...think they’d be proud of us today? Alcohol boyfriend, and not so holy lover aside?”   
Deuce got quiet. Would they? They were both silent, since they both actually couldn’t say. Deuce was the one who remembered them most, but he couldn’t lie to his brother’s face. He just didn’t know. He still had no clue what deal their father made with the fuzzball to get them in this trouble in the first place.

King gently moved away, taking the ice pack off his eye, looking out the window. “Do….do you think they’d hate us for what we’ve….done? I know you love me no matter what, but…..I WAS only 7 when the Speakeasy burned down.”

“I…” Deuce was unsure what to say. King face was extremely dark, the eye not swollen becoming lime green tinted. 

“Deuce….I’ve...done some things, working in the Casino…..I….I honestly don’t know if I’d make our parents proud, at all.”

“King…” 

King looked down, seemingly searching for a feeling of shame. “I’ve…..I’ve put people in our situation with a shit eating grin, I’ve even condemned children like myself...except, they aren’t me Deuce. They won’t get to work, they won’t even get to see the casino’s floor…..No, most of the time I watch their souls ferment in their contracts in the Devil’s “Brewing Room” as he calls it, sitting there screaming in sorrow, being roasted by Hells flames till their ripped out of the paper and eaten by the big man himself….and I just sit there, smiling, laughing as they scream...mocking and rolling my eyes when they beg for a second chance….heh, weird, I just realized how horrible it was when I wish the condemned would just shut up and accept he’d be food for the Devil so I didn’t have to cook that day. When'd I even change.”

Deuce was trying to hold back the bubbling anger inside him. It made him wanted to hate the fuzzball even more. King looked on the verge of tears again, this time his face looked downright broken with guilt and disgust he'd manage to pull up toward his actions. The poor purple brother of his had clearly never faced his actions; it was probably glorified to the point that the once tiny boy playing jacks on cement was, now, a monster. Not to his big brother, but to everyone else, including himself.

“King…” Deuce wraps his arms around his brother. Black streaks were now slowly flowing down the white face, and Deuce yellow jacket. Deuce could do nothing but hug his baby brother, who was now choking a bit on the sudden sobbing. Just hugging was all Deuce can think of. Probably nothing he could have said can change what his brother did though. The poor little die just tried to silently sob for a solid 3 hours, only stopping because he was very, very tired. Having cried most of the liquid in his body, he just curled into his big brother's entire body, and relaxed gently. Deuce held King close, even though the position was quite awkward due to the height, but King appreciated it dearly, showing it by rubbing at the black stains on Deuces jacket, even though he was the one whose face was covered. “It’s okay bro, Smokes can clean it later.” 

King tried not to sniffle gently. “You two are hurting for money, aren’t you….”

“...We get by…”

King straightened and fiddled under his pant leg, pulling out of seemingly thin air an extremely thick, overstuffed wallet. King opened and flipped through literal thousand dollar bills until reaching a small stack of hundreds tucked in the corner of the slot. He flopped the little thick stack in his hand. 

“This isn’t charity or pity, I’ve made a living, and earnings belong to all the family….take it, it’s yours.”

“Bro I….” 

Dice smiled gently, his black streaked face glowing a tiny bit. “Please. Take it.”

Deuce was unsure. His brother didn’t have to do this. Then again, King had already gone to stick the wallet back in its hiding hole in his pant leg, seemingly giving him no option. He was even maintaining eye contact as he did, showing he wasn’t taking it back. Deuce sighed again, like before he just can’t say no to his little bro. Dice smiled victoriously when he knew Deuce was “defeated” and went back to pressing sides while he wiped at his eyes, not a single bit bothered he had just lost half a thousand, before resting a hand affectionately on his brothers head.

“Love ya bro.” 

Dice gently chuckled. “Love ya too bro. I’ve got your back, from now on.” 

“Even with the fuzzball?”

“Right back at ya, Jack won’t be jealous, right?”

“Nah.”

“Then theres your answer! Devil will be ass-hurt for a second, all you gotta do is scratch behind the horns.” 

“Too much information bro!”

“Hey, lemme enjoy that my lover is also my pet, we never had one of those growing up! My pet can’t die, lemme enjoy it!” 

“Bro…”

“.....He’s definitely a cat, just so ya know. Don't know why, it ain't a form of his.” 

“Bro please….”

“He vomited in Wheezy’s shoe once; he is so much like one of those little bastards. Also, we, uh, need to replace curtains frequently.”

'This is my hell.' Deuce though. King began to then fiddle with his pant leg again, pulling out a fucking sandwich bag of green leaves.

 

“This is catnip. It doesn’t make him….”high” if you would, but the smell he likes. If you sprinkle it outside your door, you'll hear him before you see em!. We used this as a joke prop once, but then, well, he just accepted he liked it."

“Sure….only for you bro…” 

King smiled and gave Deuce a hug, before dabbing at his, once more, dry eyes. “Can I take a shower before I go, I feel grimy after that crying! If I want to make it back home in time, I need this makeup fixed. Do you mind?” 

“We only have a tub….but bathroom’s in the back past Smokes’s bed.”

“You….your cigar friend….sleeps next to the water pipes…..Wheezy would have a panic attack.” King smirked gently, before standing. In a matter of seconds his overall straps were around his legs and he was unbuttoning his shirt. Deuce had seen his baby brother naked before, when they were kids, hell he was kind of glad the pics his mother had taken when they were babies in the bath were gone, but he was not prepared for the now groomed muscles his BABY brother was revealing with just a shirt removal. Honestly, even the way he unbuttoned and slid off the shirt made Deuce feel like he had walked into an adult pansy club, and yet stupidly look down at his not muscular stomach hidden in shame behind his shirt. The sudden realization that he could never take off his shirt around his brother made the stern Die have a very childlike attempt at a poker face that screamed all confidence was gone. 

“Bro…”

“Doooon’t worry, the pants are staying on, my shirt is just….well there’s makeup.” King said, pointing to the tiniest flake of DRY mascara that had oh so delicately settled on his shirt.  “You wouldn’t mind washing it right?” he asked with a smile. Deuce nodded once, and as his brothers muscular, gay dream of a back left the room, he held the shirt and flicked the tiny speck off. 

“What’s my life?” Deuce question himself “My bro is gay and fucking the fuzzball…”

Water ran in the background, as the little drunkard sat there, holding a shirt made of better material than his couch. The 600 found themselves on the table as he just sat there and waited, images of a, mockingly, cat-like fuzzball and his brother doing very…..things he never thought he'd ever think of, going through his head. He had just finished thinking of how his brother would faint when King came out in a robe, makeup gone. He looked attractive even without it, but instead of the entrancing, welcoming eyes, he looked ready to bite your head off from the nose up. Deuce watched as he grabbed the overall straps on the counter that Smokes had ripped off and turned to go. Deuce couldn’t help but look at the legs his brother flaunted. Again, he tucked his leg together, body shaming himself. Maybe his brother would be a kick in the ass to take care of himself. Or a reason he turned to food with his alcohol.

Just the reminder of it made Deuce once again wanted that sweet bottle. He would have if the image of his brother’s muscles-only body came up, shaming. Shame. Deuce wondered how long it’d take before sentences like “You’re hips aren’t worth that drink” would come. 

King did not come out for 3 hours. He was completely silent actually. Deuce got worried, got up and made his way to the bathroom door.

“Bro? You okay in there?”

“Your mirror 'sucks' for applying makeup! I can’t tell what’s a sparkle or a speck on the glass!”

The frown returned, Deuce was just happy his brother didn’t see it. King wasn’t being cruel, the perfection levels he had to go through were just wearing thin to say the least. Deuce wondered if King would ever be able to conform to normal life if he managed to get him out now, or if he’d be dusting off the sidewalk around their home just to make it cleaner.

“Bro…”

“Mmm, it is so hard to put on eyeshadow with this thing! Oh no, don’t tell me that dab clumped, noo, I can’t go out with another purple eye!” The sinks water came on, threatening the restart of a 3-hour process all over again over one misplaced stroke.

“Bro ya fine!” 

“No I’m not, I can’t look off! The Casino deserves better!” he spat, causing a lightning effect to his brother's spine. Was his baby brother doing all of this….Just for the Fuzzball and his play-jobs image? Did the Fuzzball….make him do this stupid routine? 

Deuce takes deep breaths before grabbing the door handle. “Bro I’m coming in.”

“No no, I have a mess in here, lemme just-” King started, before his voice was drowned out by crashing and sounds of a possible tornado of cleaning.

Deuce pulled the door open hard. The room was littered with cleaning supplies and body products, from powders to 7 types of lotion, the once empty counter now filled to the brim with makeup supplies, King was in the corner of the tub, lining up the shampoo bottles by height and fullness. The floor was littered with makeup brushes and sponges that were nowhere to be seen before, and now were strewn about, completely covered in makeup and shit Deuce had no idea the purpose of. The room smelled so strongly of chemical, probably because of the bottle of nail polish remover and a mixture of 4 different bottles of said polish, mixed together in a plastic bowl to make the same shade of purple as King's pips. Deuce stared dumbfounded. 

“Bro….how…”

Dice didn’t even look up, too busy with his task. “When you work for the casino, you are literally how you present yourself, you are your own image! And I refuse to be anything besides what makes the Boss content, even if it means carrying around over 8 pounds of makeup on me at all times!”

“But...how...where?”

“Working for the Devil means you must be ready to move at any time.” Dice said almost casually, having finished with the bottles. He just nonchalantly pointed to his feet, and stepped away from his spot, leaving his shadow just...sitting there. “We may feel the weight of whatever we carry, but our shadows are our everything, get-away, grand entrance, and unknown to most, our storage! Most fill with weapons and things to protect from the people they are trying to drag to Hell, I filled mine with makeup! Since I’m always around the boss, I rarely have to pick up a finger to protect myself, they all too focused beggin' to the Boss!”

The frown returns. 

'I need a drink…' 

 

He just kept thinking it as his brother flopped onto the toilet and grabbed the mixture of nail polish, mixing it quickly before applying to his toes first.

“Don’t frown like that, you’ll get marks around your mouth like a puppet, not a good look on our kind. What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing….”

“Liar. You never used to frown like that at me. What’s wrong.” Deuce didn’t say anything, not out loud to upset his brother. King sighed gently without looking up. “Am I being annoying?”

“No...it’s just…”

“Just?”

Deuce sighed again. “It’s just different….All this shadow business... you're like….” He went quiet again.

King smiled gently. “Like a walking storage? Like a place for the Boss to throw his shit and leave me to deal with it? That’s how you first get this, no one else in the casino has it besides the most senior employees. I like it, it keeps me occupied, and prepared.” he said, picking up a tiny sponge. “You call it unnecessary, what this is, but doing this makes me feel happy brother. I look great, I turn heads, make anyone I want swoon, and if I’m stressed, I put it all into this, and make my own version perfection! It’s worth it when the Boss comments how 'cute as Hell' it is, even if it's for the pun, really.”

Deuce pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not boil over on his brother. King was once again unseeing of the rising tension, going back to painting his hands now, nearly done. Deuce turned around to let his brother be... whatever he was, and headed back to where he knew Jack was waiting for him. This was going to harder than he thought, they had both grown up, gotten habits. Deuce had made such an isolated life for himself, and here his brother was, performing plastic-surgery styled make overs to be seen by ALL. He sighed before taking the bottle to his lips. Down went half the bottle before Deuce set it back on the table to take in a breath. He could hear the clicking of what sounded like….boots…coming before King came in, with an entirely different outfit on. The biggest difference was the boots he was wearing with 6-inch heels, his more exaggerated for making Deuce stare in faint amazement. Deuce wondered how many people hid in stores out of shame when his brother walked by. Probably a good few.

“I don’t need the shirt, but I’ll put it in the shadow! I think its close for me to go, Devil will be waking up soon, and if I’m not there with breakfast no one will have a nice day.” Dice said, fluffing the thick scarf tucked into his white dress shirt.

“....Do you have to go…?”

King stopped and looked at his brother rather tenderly, walking over and patting his head. “Unless you want the Devil walking up to your front door I should go, don’t worry, we’ll meet again. Do you have a personal phone? I can give you one, we can be in constant contact!” A smile appeared on Deuce’s face. King smiled in satisfaction, before stepping off his shadow and sticking his hand into a seemingly black abyss. Even without looking in, it took him only a second to pull his arm out holding a small landline, though without a connector. “I didn’t tinker with this one while drunk, so here!” Deuce’s smile strangely got wider. King grinned back, though a small bead of discomfort could be seen. “Heh, smile any bigger and your smile will escape. Mango does that enough as is.” Deuce suddenly yanked his little brother into a hug with no warning. Years of performing in hidden heels kept them from falling over when King caught him, but the tear of pain from his nearly snapped ankle was quite apparent. Still, he hugged his alcohol-wreaking brother. “Love...ya….too….brother….that was sure smarts…”

“...Sorry…” 

“S’fine, I’ve picked up bigger guys when they got drunk…” King said, trying to straighten his ankles. “Should I send ya to you little roommate before I leave, or leave you alone in a kitchen full of things to hurt yourself with?”

“...Smokes...please…”

“Right away brother.” King said, draping his drunk brothers arm over his shoulder, guiding him to the front. Smokes was behind the counter emptying the cash register before the rush hour, and only took one second to look at them before grabbing a stool from under the bar and patting it. King eased his brother onto it, and Smokes turned on the T.V behind the bar for his boss to watch since he wasn’t going to be of much use for the next 3 hours. King patted his brother on his head affectionately. “I’ll see ya around, send me a call if you get sober enough to hang out by tonight!” 

King smiled as he walked off, his unabashed strut making everyone outside the front door turn and look to the bar this strange man came from. Smokes pursed his lips as they all came in. “I wasn’t ready for rush hour yet…damn it.”

Deuce was just nursing his bottle of Jack. Smokes couldn’t help but grab a small camera they kept for family birthdays of patrons, snapped a picture of his boss, to give to the strange new addition to their duo. He may not like the guy, but he wasn't going to fight over it either.


	7. Remembering What It Means To Be Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both brothers are finding about as hard a time getting back in the gist of having family, or NORMAL friendships in general. From a certain brothers lavish life of getting what he wants, to the others discomfort of seeing how low in society he really is, both come to clash, as both try to take the others approach of a situation to ease the tension. 
> 
> Doesn't help that when a King acts a Commoner, the Big Boss is called to save face. Hard to explain why you were at a dinner date, on your OWN. Hm, wonder what'll happen next!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so hard to go back and see how we used to write, it's so cringey UGH! Do bare with me, this writing was literally from a year ago when the 2 of us were first starting to get used to each others writing styles, and characters!

The first call came from a quite sober Deuce later on. The missed recording was 15 minutes of how much King missed his big brother. Yeah, the flamboyance hadn't the alcohol, but it still made Deuce smile a bit. Listening to how much you were missed is very, very nice. His usually pale cheeks became rosy as the feeling of being special bubbled. He returned the call, and for an easy 15 minutes their inner children came as they acted and talked like air headed fools, until King pulled up a simple offer.

“Dinner, on me?”

Deuce blinks a bit but smiled at the idea. “Sure”. 

Quite a bit of shuffling could be heard before King once again spoke up. “I’ll come pick you up after 10, the Boss will be in his office counting money all night!” 

Deuce was unsure about this. “Will Fuzzbutt know?”

King was silent for 15 minutes. “No. I’ll do every trick in the book to keep Devil in the dark for now, tonight is all about us! I’ll park the limo in a grocery store parking lot!”   
Deuce blinks. Limo? The next sentence didn't help. 

“Which one would be noticed less, hm....we have so many, I want to take you out with a newer, nicer version, but I'm a bit concerned it'll look like I'm happy, over mindless errand shopping. Don't want us gettin' caught now.”

“You’re asking the...wrong guy bro.” 

“Hm. I suppose I'll have to suck it up and take a banged up version. I'll be there soon!” 

A small curl of anxiety curled in Deuce's stomach from the covering up the tracks of a simple dinner.

“See you.”

King hung up with a 'Ciao' and was gone. Smokes, who had been cleaning the bar, looked over at his boss, and the now soundless phone. “Either your bottles came to life or your brother is flaming.” 

“What gave you that idea? He’s fucking THE demon.”

“....We aren't one to talk Boss. I mean, I’m a living Cigar, you’re a walking Dice. Not exactly the most natural beings either. Not to mention all the others walking around that shouldn't be. Hell, even the dead don’t stay DEAD half the time.” Deuce gave him the stink eye with his only working eye. Smokes eyes turned his orange eye back, his stink eye. “Wanna brawl? Your brother talked about my brother, and I let him go with nothing broken, fight me boss!” Deuce backed up, hands in the air. “Yeah that’s what I thought! Have fun boss, bring me back something with chocolate!”

Not much later, Deuce was waiting for his brother out of the curb. He had put on the nicest suit he owned, knowing his brother's taste, he would be taking them something fancy. This was very true as he sat on the front steps, where shortly a long, elegant piece of limo came strolling up like it was nothing beside the dingy curb in front of the wooden bar. God it was gorgeous. Deuce couldn’t help but stare at it. The passenger door swung open via King’s heeled boots, who quickly gestured him in. “The road was too thin for my limo, I broke a fire hydrant, we need to go, ASAP! I heard sirens!”

“Bro….”

“I threw money on the sidewalk, I don’t think it’s gonna make it though, I know how this goes, I can't spend a night in prison, the Casino will die without me!” King said while grabbing his brother’s arm and pulling him sideways into the car. “Get in already!”

Deuce sighed. “You won’t even make it if you did….”

King gave a simple rev of the engine. “They’d take my possessions…I ain't about to let that happen.” 

King immediately floored it, screeching down the road, nearly hitting a bee man, since Deuces door was still wide open and swinging in the wind. Deuce looked very concerned, trying to reach out to close said door. Whenever he got close to grabbing the handle, the door seemed to lurch at him angrily, almost daring him to so it could slam on his fingers. Seemed that everything the Fuzzball owned had a fucking attitude. “Um bro….” 

King looked at him for one second before drifting onto a rather clean street. “Yeah?”

“The door….”

“Oh. Oh! OH!” he said, before instantly snapping the wheel to the left and sneaking into reverse at the speed of 30 mph, snapping the door shut while also breaking many laws. If Deuce had a nose, it would have been so horribly broken by the handle. 

“Bro...who taught you to….” He was about to say drive but he probably guessed who. Then again the chair King was sitting on was covered in fur, so it was possible King was rarely the driver and was just imitating. It would explain how King didn’t know how far away a FIRE HYDRANT was. Deuce didn’t even drive often, yet he knew where those little shits were. He wonders what the fuzzball would think when he'd notice the dents. Honestly though, if this was his brother imitating the Fuzzball, strong possibility they scrapped it after a single scrape. The thought of a perfectly good limo that would've been perfect with a new paint job physically pained him. “So...where are we going?”

“5-star restaurant of course! This one is more for the….suffisticated crowd, if you were! I say that because the men's bathroom warm towels and small things to freshen up, much needed if I may be honest. Much needed with how dripping their food is.” Dice said, so nonchalantly. “It’s also got very 'fruity' drinks if ya know what to ask for, I thought you’d enjoy a place with some mixing talents!”

“We’ll see. Speaking of mixing drinks...what’s up with those drinks you serve at that place?”

King rolled his eyes hard. “I’m gonna guess you’re talking about the fiery piss we call alcohol. People come to the casino to get wasted off their ass and drink themselves to death if they could. That includes the staff. Our bartenders are 3 glasses of alcohol more drunk then the Devil has ever been. If you want something fancy you gotta come get me, but, well. I only know how to make the basic ones, only specialty on the counters I know is the multi-colored drink with the flame in it. I was not very good at drinks, ever really.” 

“I could teach you.”

King looked at him with a perked eye. “What, really? Can you teach me how to make a martini? Martini, one of the bartenders, calls me heartless if I ask for one.” 

“I’d figured…” Deuce said with a smile “Remember bro I own a bar. I can mix.”

King slid back into his seat on that note. Deuce imagined his brother coming quite often, and the rather sad image of them passing out together was very warm and bonding to him. He almost couldn’t wait to see his baby bro pass out in a bowl of peanuts just like his big brother. Deuce smiled bigger at just thinking about it. As he imagined his brother dealing with all the drunken stupidity that came from alcohol binges with his big bro, they’d parked in front of a building that looked like it came out of a castle. King slid out, gesturing for his brother to follow.

“Hurry they’ll park the car! I’m so hungry I could eat a soul!” King chirped, strutting to the front to pay the valet. 

Deuce got instantly worried. A silent prayer was sent up that that was just a stupid joke among the Casino employee's as he and King walked in. Of course everyone turned when they walked in, King's hidden boots on the marble floor make the click of a Vogue manager. Deuce started to look uncomfortable looking out of place, picking at his well-washed suit. King saw and took off his purple dress jacket and put it on his brother, even stealing his hat and putting it on his own head. His smile encouragingly, saying “There, now we both look ridiculous.”, a warm gesture even if all that changed was King now had a hat. A hat that looked a bit big on his little brother but Deuce just couldn’t help but smile. It was even cuter as the hat hung off the sides of his brother’s head, for it refused to float like it did for Deuce. It was so obvious it would never fit, and made this grown man look like a boy all over again, especially with his high cheeked face. Deuce’s smile got even bigger, feeling more at ease. They were seated quick, an apparent reservation of King's being pushed above others in just a day. The menu was put in front of Deuce, the words in another language, but the money in English, very bold English for the poor man. A refill of water was 4 bucks.

“Why is this menu all in French?!”

“Because class brother, you're in the richest part of the Isles.” King crooned as he lit a cigar.

“I don’t KNOW French!” 

“Well…..there’s pictures on the sides” 

“Do YOU know French, bro?”

King looked up and muttered gently. “....French, Mandarin, Japanese and Italian. Spanish came natural and some Latin.” he said between puffs. 

Deuce just looked dumbfounded once more, like that morning. King huffed hard. 

“....The boss has always refused to learn it to speak with businessmen. I had to learn it so we could send his money to islands when we couldn’t keep it all in the casino…Offshore business is rather common to get all we have in the Casino. It didn't help to gain some allies from places outside of Inkwell.”

'I only know English and I have trouble with the crosswords.' Deuce though bitterly. Dice was like a walking example of his shortcomings now. The need to have his mouth filled with familiar peanuts was now necessary to help his increasing discomfort. Deuce glances at the hard-to-read menu again. Some pictures he could vaguely recognize from the ingredients, so with his best efforts, he pointed to an item that looked the most appealing. King looked at him and raised an eyebrow. 

“.......So, basically steak and Mac’n’Cheese sandwich on 30 buck bread?” 

“Um…..”

“Do you want a crab cake with that?” Dice offered, trying to help his brother while somewhat biting a shitty sibling snicker. 

Deuce just gave a shrug with a smirk. King chuckled before writing it down for him to remember on a paper, with, once again, a random lipstick in his pocket. 

Deuce was beginning to blush madly, watching his brother write down his order like a parent. The poor die was heating up, feeling so embarrassed. And he knew he would be even more if he even tries to speak a language he didn’t know how to speak to try to save face. King knew and sighed, patting his brother’s shoulder affectionately. “It's fine brother, culture shock won't mean anything when the alcohol comes.”

“Thanks bro…”

King smiled and gave another fine pat, before the waiter came back for their drinks. Deuce watched as his brothers voice went from calm and comfortable, to the voice he would imagine was used on the Casino floor, slick and dripping with importance as fine French flowed with it. They spoke for quite some time, possibly gossiping, the waiters constantly flashing looks at Deuce. It wasn’t malicious, but Deuce was wondering if the man ever saw King with someone rather....human. King gave a small dismissive wave shortly after a chuckle and the waiter was off, humming away. 

“Well, hope you like wine brewed for 20 years off shore, and bread made fresh with butter!” he said politely. “Oh, and they said you looked nice!”

“Um….tell them thank you….”

“F'course brother!” King said cheekily, possibly saying “Brother” a twinge sharper then needed for others near. Deuce was sure he felt everyone in the room staring at him. Unsure of what to make of it, he sat there stiff as a board. Image, always an image. He soon heard whispers, gentle, but enough to make him break out in a sweat. King noticed and offered him a napkin to busy his hands with. “It’s ok brother, it’s good whispers. I promise!” The introvert in him was screaming at him. King began to fidget with his own napkin. 

“I’m sorry, I know we bring looks, but these are good. No...No employee gets out very much without the Boss, and when I’m around others, people kinda...sigh in relief ya know? They’re safe, and even though I’ve been in the Casino for years, they kinda always think ‘Hey, maybe he’s branching away from it’!’, they’re just being….supportive. Gossiply supportive.”

“Bro...I’d…” King smiled supportively, nodding for Deuce to force out his words. “I’m not much of a people person….”

Dice nodded. “I know. I just never had a choice. I'll try to dial it back a bit.” 

Deuce got quiet. Both did honestly, the only difference was Dice was still fidgeting his napkin. “So...did the fuzzball fall for it?”

“Fell for it so hard I got the Limo key on the way out.” 

“Everything in that place is about money, isn't it…”

“Eh, like any relationship, the person knows nothing if they let you go with no questioning. Took it as a nice sign we were safe!” Deuce took his word for it.

Soon the biscuits came in a pan the size Deuce would make a 3-week meal in, steaming and sitting in its own melted butter. His good eye grew plate sized. King muffle a chuckle into his napkin as he put it in his lap. “Dig in brother, there's plenty.”

“This alone will make a meal for three weeks!”

Dice leaned in, enjoying his brothers excitement. “Yes, well this is just the bread bowl. We still have the appetizer, 3-course dinner if we wish, and the chocolate cake to eat after if we wanna be a tad greedy!”

“Oh yeah that reminds me..." Deuce started, suddenly remembering Smokes. King seemed to read his mind a small bit. 

"This can be taken home you know. All food you buy can be bagged, even the wine! They put it in a bag like those silly little shops teens go into with their allowance!” Deuce was almost positive he meant a fast food place. His little bro sure needed to get out more. Then again, giant 3 weeks of dripping buttered bread was very nice on a deathly tight budget.

Deuce shook his head, smiling again. King held a piece of bread at him, embarrassingly like he wanted to feed him, but thank god just held it out teasingly.

Deuce rolled his eye but still smiled, soon forcing down the most food he had in a while, even though it was just bread. King had gotten his own motormouth going and was just constantly handing his brother bread, having no mercy. King himself was just eating bread like it was nothing, like it was going into an abyss. He didn’t even unbutton his pants Deuce noticed, looking at the pants top that not only was so “Form-fitting” it looked like Die was poured into them to get his hips to fit, but also had a thick leather belt. Deuce was so confused after watching his brothers stomach not expand from the onslaught of food it was taking, that he just stared at the buttons, waiting, thinking it’d just pop off suddenly so he’d know his brother wasn’t seemingly without a stomach. Deuce’s eyebrow started to twitch in concern just watching. King just prattled on and on, finishing off bread slices, the two only coming back to reality when the wine came out. 

“Um...bro…”

King poured them wine with a small smile. “Yeah?”

“H-How?”

“How what?”

“How can you just eat all this without even unbuttoning?!”

King looked at his pressed slacks. “Oh, um. This!” He said, opening his mouth wide, and freakishly stuck his entire hand in his mouth. As Deuce watched in disturbed horror, his entire arm till the joint joined inside. Nothing happened, but when the hand came out, it had a pen in its grasp. “Like that!” Deuce was once again dumbfounded and a bit shocked. King patted his stomach. “All the bread is well, going straight to the trash outside our casino! Except for the really tasty ones.” 

“King! That’s wasteful!” There are hungry people out there. Mostly me.

“It’s not...wasteful. The boss eats out of the trash all the time.”

Deuce held up a finger with a disgusted grimace. “That’s...too much information.”

“Well when he gets under some 'vices' or night binges, it often leaves our employees without food. We’d be starving too with how little the boss actually cares if his employees get food! I opted to become a mock food storage for him.” 

Deuce worried if the breakfast they made went to the “trash bin” too.

King licked his fingers gently, before looking at his concerned brother. “I do eat most of the food ya know! You think I can work in the casino all day, and have this body on nothing! Muscles need food brother! This is just dripping with calories and is a heart attack waiting to happen, so it goes in the bin. Let the boss have the stroke.” Deuce was still silent. King slid on a forced smile. “Ya ok there brother?”

“Please tell me you at least ate our breakfast…” 

“.........” King stared blankly, before reaching his hand inside his mouth again. This time as it was pulled back out, in the gloved hand was a dainty bite of purple pancake. 

“Sorry bro was just making sure…” King smiled as he put the piece in a napkin.

“All these creepy ‘powers’ you have from the fuzzball….”

King nodded, thinking deeply for a second. “The shadow was given, and the stomach and body changes came from rewards for being......good at my job. The eyes seemed to be the thing that came from just being around the Boss and his influence!”

Deuce sighed, and started to wonder if he should 'cheat' on his regular Jack and just drown his discomfort in the wine. King had seemed to have chosen for him, for he was pouring himself a glass the size of a mini bowl. 

Deuce raised an eyebrow on how big the glass is. King looked at him with a narrowed smirk, continuing to pour the wine till half the bottle was gone. Deuce, not wanting the wine to go to waste, held his hand out. King grinned and slid the lip of the bottle to him. “Glass or 'from the tap'?”

“Just give it, King.” A snicker later, Deuce had a giant bottle of half empty wine in his hand.

Without a second thought he proceeded to drown himself with it. Most would have been appalled at that fancy-pants place, but King took one look at his brother and followed suit. King didn’t often let himself have no shame, but a childish want to imitate his brothers lack of class bubbled up, and he had no regrets 4 chugs later anyway.

Apparently neither did Deuce as the two seem to laughing and gossip at nearly anything they saw. One man flicking a piece of lint off his trousers ended up with the entire restaurant cowering from the booming laughter of the two in the booth, Kings’s deep bass of a voice most of all.

“Bro...I can sing…” Deuce said, quite tipsy. 

King raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Sing.”

People at the bar wonder if the other die was like the Casino manager but boy was they wrong. King’s voice was nice enough to not shatter the expensive glass, but the yellow Dice made many ears ring in the 8 seconds he sang before King held up a hand. “Oh, my, um, enough.” 

“Dang...guess I lied.”

“You’re so much like father, lemme be mother, ok?” Deuce started laughing up a storm. King began to rather dumbly chortle up a hurricane, sounding like a broken animal.

“Bro...I...I think we’re real wasted….”

King plopped his hand on his brother's shoulder. “No, we’re just real stupid! Doesn't matter, we're off the clock!”

“I’ll drink to that….” Deuce gulped down some more wine. King joined his brother, before quickly standing.

“Hey, Deucey boy, need to drain the eel, watch my stuff will ya?" 

“Mm-hm…” Deuce said while downing more drink down his gullet.  
Deuce waved him off as he continues his nursing of the bottle, alcoholism long ago taking over. As the last drop left and the wine gave him a fruity goodbye kiss, Deuce looked around just a tiny bit to notice a seemingly giant fur coat by the front entrance, though the coat was breathing, and the arm inside was quite large and grew. The wearer had a weird look, Deuce fogged head didn't understand the kind of clientele these expensive places brother in.

His thoughts quickly lost interest in some stranger in a restaurant, focusing on his brothers left-over drink. King was taking too long, the thought of just letting his wine join the party was ok, though with his thoughts fighting through the fog, his hand had already slid the wine to his side of the table. He didn’t seem to care that the walking fur coat was stomping towards the bathroom where his brother had gone to. He noticed people had gone much quieter and they were all staring at their plates though, in fact, to Deuce's drunken surprise, 3 groups just up and left. As his brow furrowed in confusion, he didn’t notice the forked tail disappearing behind the closing men’s bathroom door.

A bit while passed until King was being hauled out the bathroom under a furry arm. Deuce had begun to fade into the subconscious, and didn’t hear the drunken giggles that were escaping his brother’s mouth as they passed with no care. King had become far too busy pressing into the overheated fur he had grown to loved, and honestly enjoying the tail tip that wagged like a puppy on his thigh. The fur coat grumbling about something, King replying replied with a nod, unaware that the yellow object head he'd come with soon passed on at their table wit a clunk. Deuce was quite lucky, the fur coat threw a bag of gold coins on the counter so they passed the front, the waiter not asking any questions as the bag was taken and retreated with, only casting a single look at the left-behind guest as he went.


End file.
